


Let Me Know You Again

by AKAQueenAnnie



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Cardan pov at ch3, F/M, Forgiveness, Hope, Hurt, Hurt and comfort, New Beginnings, cuss words, stay the night, there is smut at the bottom of ch2!, try it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-06-28 17:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKAQueenAnnie/pseuds/AKAQueenAnnie
Summary: They meet.She's numb, and that hurts the most. He stays to help her remember how to feel whole again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Night One.**  
She used to count the minutes. But then they turned into hours and days, into weeks and months. Hours of anger and sadness turned into something more like a faint whisper. A memory of something in the past, left behind.

She sees him now and wonders how long it's been. She stopped counting when she realized that way was easier. But now he's here and he looks different but the same. _Is that possible? That doesn't make any sense._ He is beautiful. And he's here now and she wants to know how long they haven't seen each other. How long she hasn't seen his face. Vaguely, she remember wanting to punch that face in the earlier days of her banishment. She used to be so angry. She used to _feel_ so much. She doesn't now. It's not that she feels nothing, but she just can't think of the feeling. She doesn't know this feeling compared to the rays of emotions she felt in the weeks that followed that day. This is an emptiness so heavy it's bringing her down. Somehow, this is worse.

She was just throwing out the trash when she noticed a figure in the shadow. A familiar one. And there he was. There he is. He's dressed in dark breeches and a white shirt under a dark hoodie. _Where'd he get that?_ She can see the shine of the crown under the hood, between dark wisps of hair. His eyes are obsidian and she remembers herself falling deep into them once, some time long ago. _Was it long ago?_ It feels like long ago. She wonders if she should ask him, then decides against it. 

In the back of her mind, she registers that she's still holding the trash bag. It's almost midnight and Vivi and Oak fell asleep in their couch before their movie even ended. She just closed the lights and put a blanket over them before cleaning up. She's in a normal tank top and sweatpants and she's wearing the fluffy bunny slippers Heather forgot to take. She can't seem to make herself move, though. So she stands there, too. Looking back at him, and she thinks of what to do at this moment. She knows what she used to want. Kick him in the groan. Slap him across his face. Shout everything she feels about him. She wanted to hurt him so bad. Use her hands. Her words. her sword. None of those feel right to do now. Nothing feels right. So, she stares back instead and tries to think of what _he's_ going to do. What he's thinking. His face resembles a stone statue she saw with Vivi when they visited that one museum about tragic mythologies. _Can a stone be sad?_ , she thought. 

The silence between them is as heavy as the numbness she feels. She wants to say something, but she can't find the words. What would she even say?   
_I hate you?  
Why are you here?   
Why did you do this to me?   
How dare you take the only happiness I had? The only thing I lived for?   
How dare you come back?  
Why did it take you so long?  
Did you miss me?  
Was it real?  
Were _we_ real?_  
No, she can't find the words. So, she thinks again. Can she do anything? Should she hug him? Cry? Kiss him? Is that even allowed? She feels lost and wrong and detached. She doesn't even know if he ever felt the same. He _did_ banish her. She doesn't know what to do. She used to know what to do all the time when she was in the world she grew up in. When she was by his side. _How long has it been?_

He steps forward then. Just one step. She doesn't know if she wanted him to take more. What did she want him to do? Say sorry? Beg her to come back? Give her an offer? 

"Jude," he says, voice heavy with emotion. Unlike hers, that emotion was filled. Was it relief? Pain? Anger? Still, she doesn't know.   
He takes another step. She's counting now. She wants to say she doesn't know for what, but that would be a lie. She's counting how many steps until he reaches her. Five more. 

She clutches the trash bag because she doesn't know what else to do. Even crossing her arms or even stepping back doesn't feel right. She feels like any movement is too much. Too vulnerable. She feels exposed. She hates it. She doesn't want to feel this again. Because she remembers him being able to see through whatever face she wore. He used to get under her skin and into her heart. He made her feel something she doesn't want to ever admit feeling. She can't. Not even to herself. She doesn't want to know. She hates it. She feels weak with it. She feels powerless. Like the girl in the shore that day that the Folk laughed at. Like the girl who saw her parents die in front of her. Like the girl who loved that murderer and wanted him to love her back. The girl this king trusted. The one she trusted back. She hates it. She hates that she can't find that hate now. 

" _Jude,_ " he says. He sounds like he's begging. What does he want? Does she even want to know? 

She thinks of what to reply. His name? Cardan? Even just thinking about it feels wrong. She used to think about that a lot. She used to say it like a curse. A prayer. She used to wake with his name on her lips. Her tongue burned with it as if he was really there. He never was. Until now. But it doesn't feel right now. So, she doesn't say anything. 

"Jude, I--" he starts, then he looks at his hands and takes a deep breath and continues, "I want you to believe me. I wish I can lie, and say I did that-- _everything_ \--just so that you can be safe. But some part of me wanted to hurt you, so I did. Some despicable disgusting part of me wanted to take revenge for the throne, for my brother. But I also wanted you safe and when I saw Orlagh and her rage, it seemed like the best option. I should've told you but I knew you weren't going to agree. I needed you here. You just came from the Undersea and you were a target to so many and when I saw..." he continues, but she doesn't hear anymore. 

She doesn't need to hear the words, because she's heard them before. In her head. His betrayal was the only thing in her mind for a long time. And after the initial anger and pain she felt, she stepped back and tried to ask herself why he did it. It hurt her to know that she gave him multiple reasons to do what he did. It hurt to know that he still did it. She isn't mad anymore. She understands him. She killed his brother, the only one who took him in. She talked to his mother behind his back and never told him until it was near too late. She made him hurt someone he used to love. She forced him into a responsibility he never ever wanted. She kept secrets from him. Ordered him to do things he really didn't need to be forced into. She lied to him, many times. She lied to herself, many times. She probably hurt him as much as he hurt her. A fair faerie trade. 

She continues looking at him. She used to think about what would happen when they meet again. So many scenarios came up to her head. Him on the ground. Them fighting. Crying. Fucking. So many things happened in her head and all she can do now is watch. So he watched him, his hands, his face, his mouth. She wonders if his tail looks the same. She wonders if he ever thought about this, too. She wonders--

Five. He's close. Too close. There's a breath of space away between them and she tries to remember how to breathe. She can see his face clearer now. Gone is his impassive face from awhile ago. She can see so many things in his eyes, she almost feels them. His eyebrows are drawn together, lips apart, eyes wet. She notices that while she can't breathe, he seems to breathe too fast. 

He raises his hand as if to touch her face, and that's when she moves. Away. She stops looking at him and remembers how to breathe and remembers that she has to throw the trash because it's midnight and she has work tomorrow and _how long has it been_ since she was out here. She moves to throw the trash and when that's over she stops. And she's afraid that if she looks back up, he would be gone. She's afraid that _she_ is truly gone and imagined everything because she's done this so many times since and _how long has it been?_

She looks up and he's still there with his hand midair, clenched into a fist. He's looking at her. She doesn't know what to do. So, she clears her throat and starts to head back to the stairs. He follows.

"Jude, _please_ ," he begs. She doesn't stop. She keeps walking until she reaches the door and opens it and he separates her from the inside. "Jude."

She looks at him, then. She has nothing else to say so she says, "I have work tomorrow." And she hates that she said that but she did and it's there and he knows and he takes her wrist and she pulls it away. 

A beat passes. He lowers his head and makes her forget how to breathe again. "Will you let me stay?"

His whisper caresses her cheek and she closes her eyes and she doesn't know what to think about the fact that she starts to feel again. She can't speak. She doesn't trust herself to. She nods and she walks in and goes to her room. He follows, looks around, and then sits down on the bed. She's standing, still. She starts to leave to sleep in Vivi's room, but before that,

"Stay with me," his voice is strained. "Please. Talk with me, Jude. I _missed_ you."

Her breath catches and she wants to forget that faeries can't lie. She feels tears threaten to spill. Her heart starts to tug. She can't do this now. 

"Not tonight," she whispers to the dark and leaves the king alone in the very room he left her to be alone in for so many nights. She tries to ignore the nagging in her brain than that she basically told him that they will talk soon. Tomorrow, most likely. 

In the morning, she doesn't know if she's scared or relieved in the fact that he stayed.


	2. Sculpture of Sorrow

**Night Two.**

When she woke up in the morning, Vivi had already dropped of Oak to school and was talking to Cardan on the couch. They were talking about her. She passed by so quick, she didn't give them a chance to stop her before she was out the door.

"Jude," one of them, or both of them, said before she was out and down the hall and put some distance between her and her...husband. _Husband._ Had she really married him? Was that real? It doesn't feel real. But it did. She has to admit that it was. For her, at least. She remembered his hand, the ring, the words. He called her his wife. That was real. That night was real. It had to be. It was. _Was it?_

Does it matter?

She pushed those thoughts out in favor of going to her very human job. She hoped going to work would help her take her mind off him. It did not. It went by too fast, too. To get more time, she went and bought groceries. She walked home and even took the long route. The sun's almost out at this point. 

So, now she's back. She's outside the door and knows that she has to talk to him once she steps in. She doesn't want to. Not yet. But is that really what she wants? _More_ time? There's been enough. Too much really. She enters because this has to happen.

She doesn't hear anything. Not even Oak's laughter. No one's in the small living room. No one sitting on the couch. She goes straight to the kitchen because she definitely is not going to look around. Vivi left her a note on the fridge.

__**Took Oak to a sleepover.  
** Going out with friends tonight.  
Might go with them tonight so don't wait up!  
Love ya!-Vivi 

_Of course._ She knows that Oak did not have a sleepover planned before today. She also knows that Vivi doesn't really have _friends_. And that the purpose of this note, instead of the more practical text message, means one thing.

Her heart skips a beat. Is he still here? Nope, she doesn't care. Shouldn't care. She should only care about making dinner, and taking out the pan, defrosting the chicken, and cutting some carrots.

So, she cuts some carrots. Once again, her treacherous mind wanders off, and she is reminded of what really got her in this position. Though her time in the mortal world is not much compared to the time she spent in Elfhame, she understands what Vivi said to her at night long ago. _This doesn't have to be normal. It isn't normal._ It wasn't, to mortals. It was to her, though. Back when she thought herself to be better than what she truly is. Mortal. And again, she's astonished at the depth of hatred she has for herself. She used to think it wasn't fair. To be bold and strong, yet still be treated like an insect. Powerless. Insubstantial. Below. She remembers her sadness. Her anger. For all the things she's been through, she survived. Why does it feel like she's dying inside? She starts to ache.

Then something grabs her hand off the chopping board right before her other hand with the knife connect with the wood. _Cardan._

She looks up and he's staring at her, his eyes as dark as all the nights she spent alone. She snatches her hand back immediately.

"I didn't want to interrupt, but..." he started. They're too close. She glares at the wretched carrots, chopped to bits, and wishes it is the person next to her instead. _Lies._ "Jude."

She scoffs. "Is that the only think you know how to say?"

"It is difficult," he says after a pause, probably debating if he should continue."to say much else when your name refuses to leave my thoughts."

It was honest. If she doesn't know better, if she is any other mortal, or even in a different world long gone in the past, she would have thought it was a taste so sweet that it leaves her tongue bitter. She leaves the carrots alone in favor of her knife.

"I tried, you know," he continues after sensing she, much like her name, refuses to do any of his bidding or taunting. "I tried to forget you. Nights and days, mortal and faerie, it's all a blur. Against the chaos of everything that was happening, the only thing clear in my head was your name. _Jude_. It won't leave me alone. _You_ won't leave me alone. I can't stop and I hate that I'm powerless to it."

Words from a fog flash through her head. _I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop._ He said that back then. He's saying it now. And once again, she doesn't know how to feel. She settles for anything. She settles for anger.

"I'm powerless to you, Jude."

She glares at him then. "Do _not_ talk to me about power," she sneers, putting as much hate as she can in the words. "Do not, for a second, think you will have my pity or anything else of me."

"That's not-"

" _Why_ are you here, Cardan?" she spat. It's the first time in awhile she said his name out loud. It used to be so easy, the feel of his name embracing her tongue. Now, it feels unfamiliar. Unwanted. She knows why he's here. Or at least, she's thought of many great reasons as to why he could be. It wouldn't hurt, though, to actually know. Not that she thinks his words true and clear.

His face is set like stone, lips a thin line before in parts to say cruel lies woven in a backbone of truth. Faeries cannot lie, but Jude knows more than anyone else, how much better they are at deceiving because of it. 

"You," he says, as if that was the answer to everything. "I'm here for you."

"I'm not something to be taken away," she says, struggling to hold on to the composure she held on to before. She felt numb. She thought that feeling anything would be better. But, this. _This_ was wild. Untamed and unchecked. Dangerous. "I won't make the same mistake into letting that happen again."

Something flashes in his eyes and his facade crumbles. Hurt. Guilt. His shoulders sag and he takes a step forward.

Jude steps back and holds the knife between then, quick. She asks again, because she doesn't know the answer to this question if it were to be put on her, "What do you want?"

Despite the knife between them, he takes another step and another until she is cornered between his arms that rest on the kitchen counter top. The knife shines against his chest. She growls something more like the wildness of the animal inside her. "I already told you," he says, looking straight at her.

"Do you think I'm a fool, your Highness? Do you think just because you come her and apologize, I'll run back to you?"

He shakes his head, "Jude, I want-"

"Why are you here, Cardan? Why bother?" Her anger, her pain, it is coming out once and for all and she cannot stop containing it anymore. 

"Because!" he sneers, angrily for the first time since he arrived in the mortal world. His dark eyes, harboring something unseen. "Because I want you. Always. Because I took your trust and threw it on the ground as if it were trash. Because I took your life away from you. I'm here, Jude, because I can't live with myself any longer knowing that I took the role of the monster that hurt the only thing precious in the world. And believe it or not, never has a moment existed after letting you go where I did not suffer for what I'd done. Never has a moment existed where I did not let myself succumb to it." He's breathing hard, out of control, yet his voice is soft as he whispers, "Because I deserved it, didn't I, Jude? I deserve all the pain in this world imaginable, and more. And with all that I deserve, the worst pain was and _is_ knowing that I will never ever deserve you."

The knife trembles in her grip but she tightens her hold. He speaks of truth, but she doesn't accept it. Can't. She doesn't know if she ever will ever again. 

His fingers come to wipe her face. Has she been crying? She shakes her heads out of his grasp. She cannot stand this closeness. She cannot bear his touch. 

"My idol wife," he says.

" _Don't call me that. You do not have the right._ " She spits, hoping he would step back. Leave her alone. She puts the knife against his throat. Anything to get his lips farther away from what would be her downfall. But he doesn't step back. He doesn't even flinch. His eyes are glassy, eyelids low, as if he knew and accepted her words even before she said them. _No,_ she thinks, _he is more beautiful than any of those statues in the museum. More full of life. More full of sorrow._ Somewhere deep inside, though not as deep as she'd like to admit, she hurts at the sight.

"Your shadow torments me in my wake and your soul haunts me in my sleep," He glares at the space between them, teeth bared. His hand hovers and shakes, and so does the rest of his body. In the back of her mind, she sees that she is not exempt from these tremors. "Dearest beloved, you have bewitched my head as you do my heart."

"Don't" she whispers and her voice breaks. She does not want to accept this truth. She knows its dangers. She knows that it is bridge waiting to burn. She was fool then. Would she let herself be a fool now? She let herself hope, then. For a life she's never even dreamed of having. She let him give her a glimpse of a future. By his side. For all people in her life thought of her, Vivi, Taryn, Madoc, Oak, _everyone_ and possibly even herself at some points, they thought power was what she craved. They forgot what power meant. What knighthood meant to her. What being a seneschal was to her. What being queen would have been. Nobody but Cardan saw what she craved the most. For it was not power. She let herself trust. Love. Cardan showed her a future where she would belong, accepted. A future where she wasn't unwanted, cast aside, a fleck of dust in a shiny vase, a mortal in Faerie. He showed her she should be _above_ them, not below. He showed her that she could be loved in return, with open arms. She would be part of the picture, and even the focus of it. She wouldn't be a mistake. A flaw. She would be home.

But she was a fool to believe in such things, wasn't she?

"Jude," Cardan whispers, strong and strained. Though her eyes are blurry,-remembering such thoughts that she never wanted and rarely admit herself had done the trick,-heavy tears ran down her face and her throat started hurting, and despite all that, she could see _him_ as if he was clear as the night he made her his wife and queen.

_Could she let herself fall again?_

"I am suspended in blissful misery," The knife stays against his throat, but that does not stop him from leaning down, eyes barely open, words as sharp as the tip that burns and cuts his skin. Blood stains her fingers, and he says low and loud, "and I am simply too weak and incapable to be away."

And with that, he leans down and crashes his mouth against hers, again and again and again. Like a fool, dumb and haste and reckless and brave, stubborn, she fins herself hungry for the taste of his lips. Bitter and sweet as lies are beautiful. He is pain. And he is beautiful. 

He is hers.  
And perhaps, for just for tonight, she is his.

Her hands are in his hair, and his are...everywhere. Both their hands grip so tight, they leave bruises. _Closer, closer._ It isn't enough. Not for all the pain they both have been through. Not for all the deceit and tears and hurt. _How long has it been?_ Too long.

They starved for months, only longing for the taste of each other, no matter how they both hated it. Because this is the truth, isn't it? The truth that makes all lies and bloodshed seem worth it, insignificant. Because this truth...it's them. Just them. And they are horrible, wretched, and in the worst kind and best kind of wanting, longing, love. That's the truth. _Love_. And it hurts more than anything.

Cardan's kiss is poison, and she drinks every single drop. 

He lifts her up and she wraps her legs around him and she remembers her knife discarded, forgotten, stabbed on the wood of the cutting board. She remembers the familiarity of this. A knife to his throat. Discarded onto the table. Their first kiss. _How long has it been?_ Too long.

And they are too fast and too slow all at once. And the memory of everything is sad and she gasps for air and trembles.

"Cardan," she moans, for him. Him. Him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles as he kisses her throat, hard. "I'm sorry." And kisses her tears. "I'm sorry." Her ear. And this is it. A kiss is their apology. And there is so many things they have to apologize each other for.

She grabs his face and drowns. His tears are like the river he threw her and her sister in, once long ago. His eyes are the glasses of wine he drank and threw against the wall, the ground. His hair is the dark of that day he exiled her away from her life, from him. His ears are the Folk that humiliated her countless times again and gain just because she's human. His mouth are the horrible truths neither of them want to say aloud. He is everything, every pain, every heartbreak. And all this, he is barren and open to her. To her. He shows his weakness. His suffering. His dreams. And she drowns and drowns with every kiss as aggressive as their relationship, demanding and wanting. Selfish. Harsh. And all too much. She opens her mouth and let their tongues meld themselves each other as if doing that could tell him everything she wanted to tell him for the months she wasn't with him.

Her hands go to his shirt and pry under it. He growls and his mouth leaves bruises on her throat as he walks them to her room. Their hands are as hungry as their lips and rip and shred anything that separates them from being together. Their clothes are gone before they hit the bed. Jude pushes him down and they're animals. Growling. Panting. There is not enough air for them to breathe so they breathe each other in and there is anger and hurt and fear and sadness in the air that hangs heavy around them. They are wild. Gone. And their only salvation is each other. 

"Jude," he says in between kisses.

"I hate you," she says, and he enters her in one thrust and she cries out, suddenly forgetting what she said. She pulls his hair and glares at him and says, "I hate you."

He pulls out and slam his hips, once again buried deep in her, making her cry out again. His hands grip her hip as he kisses her again, angry. She knows she can barely breathe when he growls, "Say that again."

"I hate you," she says, then moans when he goes out and in her again. _More. Harder. Faster._ She needs more of him. All of him. So, she says, "I hate you," and moans. "I hate what you did." and moans, and it seems he's going faster and, _oh, dear._ "I hate myself for trusting you. I hate you for using me. I hate you for laughing at me and hurting and making me feel like I am nothing."

He growls, and she remembers that he is Fae and not human at all, and she moans louder. She sits up with him inside her, her hands going to his throat just like the fantasies of her killing him back when she was fresh out of exile. She told herself she would make him regret everything. Her hands grip his throat but he stares right back at her.

"You are everything," he says and thrust up again and growls when Jude moans his name. And this sight, with her hands around the throat of her enemy-lover, husband-king. The very power of Elfhame. She tighter her grips around his throat and starts moving her hips, up and down, and up and down. 

"I hate you," They are fast and rushed and nothing is enough for them. The room is filled with their moaning as Jude bounces and grinds on Cardan, feeling every possible emotion all at once as his eyes devoured her on top of him. Something touches her breasts and plays with her hard nipples. _His tail. Oh, goodness._ She moans. _He feels so good._ "I hate you for making me feel even more alone. I hate you for taking long to come back."

With every thrust of his hips, it is as if the faster, the harder, the deeper he is inside of her, he can chase away all the hate that he made her feel. He growls, " _Jude,_ you will be the death of me."

"Good," she says as her movements grow wilder and impossibly faster, out of control. " _Cardan, Cardan, Cardan..._ "

"Fuck, Jude!" he growls and meets her pace and she can feel so much, too much, and it scares her so much that she cannot get enough of this feeling, of him. She cannot get enough of him. She moans loud and throws her head back. She's close. So close. Vaguely, she feels his tail wrap around her waist as if helping her go faster. 

"I hate you, so much," she barely gets out as she's blinded by this ecstasy. It is unfair for anyone, especially him, to feel this _good_. She looks at him then, because she can feel it coming and his hands are everywhere and his eyes are scorching every detail and _he feels perfect_. She tightens her grip on his throat even more and he growls, feral and beastly. She leans in and whispers into his lips, "I hate that I can't hate you, at all, husband."

Something clicks in his eyes and his growl is loud and his movements go untamed and she's gone and screams and falls apart and it's a rush and pleasure,-the kind of thing that you can never get back. Soon, he crashes, too and his hands that were abusing her hips leave and circles her waist instead. He kisses her deeply as if they both aren't panting like their life depended on it.

He looks into her eyes and she feels so much and what's done is done and she's glad for it. For him. She pants, sweaty, sticky, completely ruined and collapsed. 

"Jude," he says with so much feeling behind every word. "You are my weakness."

She feels so much, for him, for them. And she's aware of what happened. Of them still joined. Of the tears that adorn their cheeks. Of the sadness and fear and questions that still around them. Of the worst thing that they admitted by doing this. She's aware of love. And it scares her to death. 

They stay staring into each other like this until exhaustion comes and they fall asleep in each others arms, with the beats of their hearts loud with what truth they didn't have to say out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, first time writing smut-ish? Idk. Please tell me what you think! I love reading comments. Even when I'm too lazy to write or post a chapter, I still read the comments. Ya'll are lovely! Also, have you guys read the QoN excerpt?? What do you think? :)


	3. The King and Queen of Elfhame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tells her a truth that hurts more than all of her lies combined.
> 
> “You don’t belong anywhere, Jude,” he says.

Cardan looks at his wife, and is, once again, unable to look away.

They woke up a tangled mess a couple hours after midnight, and it seemed like they were the only two with eyes open while the rest of the world slept. It felt like he was blessed with time and space, with Jude. As if the world threw him a bone he so desperately needed to maintain alive.

Dinner was forgotten and Jude didn’t want to continue cutting carrots and make whatever poison she planned to serve him. They ended up walking to a too-lit diner owned by a mortal named Denny, and now Jude eats her burger while he tried to move around the honey on his pancakes, which were no cakes at all but resembled more like flattened soft bread. 

Her hair is tangled from their...activity and Cardan’s finger itches to smoothen it against her head, put the tendrils behind her ears, touch her cheek, touch her. But he settles for staring and absentmindedly playing with his not-cakes. 

“If you have something to say, I suggest you say it.” She says, not even bothering to look up.

“Oh, I have many,” he replies because it’s true. It seems like no matter how many times he tried to explain his motives, there’s still something else she needs to her. Or he wants her to hear. _Truce._ He remembers him talking of how they should’ve called truce. In the months of being away, all became clear that Jude and him...they are somewhat similar. They understood things about each other no one else could. And he knows that, even though the Court of Shadows exists to serve him and follow Jude, they are the sole people in this world they can trust fully. 

They don’t, of course.

For many reasons on both sides. Their whole life together has just been one strike after another, every next move worse, and more unforgivable, denying them peace because he knows full well that neither of them will back down. Even for each other. Especially for each other.

And she has the next move. 

After his betrayal, which was similar to hers yet...worse, he knows a truce is out of question in any near future.

Worse.

He did her so much worse. Because his betrayal took more of her, didn’t it? That night when the flowers bloomed upon his bed in welcome to their Queen, when his heart started to beat irregularly fast in response to her “yes”, that night...she showed more of her than she wanted to. And he saw her wants and needs like he never did before. And he took them to his name and bed and threw it away out of the world. Out of their world.

No matter how many times he explains himself, he always finds something else to say.

This time he says a truth more hurtful than all of her lies combined.

“You didn’t belong there.”

A flash of anger runs across her face and she finally looks up at him to glare. He realizes this was probably not the best time to say something...harsh. However, if he waits for the right time to say all the things he wanted to tell her, she would probably be long dead by then. 

“So you marry me and cast me out of my home? My life?” She scoffs. “You had me where I can’t hold your strings anymore so it was your turn to play god?”

He considers what she says and finds them all but one to be true. She will always have strings on him. He doesn’t tell her this. He doesn’t know how.

“I told you my reasons and I find it exhausting to be redundant.”

“If only you found it exhausting to lie.”

“I never lied to you.”

“In exchange for a better word, Cardan?” She spits and leans back against the back of her chair. “You’re here now. You said you’re here for me. You want forgiveness? A truce?”

Truce. Has she been thinking about that night as well?

“To be frank, yes,” he smiles at her, a big teeth one that he knows used to get in her nerves. “I do want all those. Will you deliver?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Is that a good thing?” He Vick’s his head to the side. Jude is skilled in many things, and one of them is saying one thing and meaning it be exactly the opposite. It was a lie, but a different form of one. Somehow, these ones are harder to distinguish. 

Jude is about to say something snappy but she stops herself and regains her composure. She looks at him with contemplation then looks on the table, at the discarded scraps of food. 

“If I don’t belong there, then why bother taking me back? All of this seems pointless and stupid and petty. What’s your game?”

“Don’t have one. It’s your move.”

“Answer the question.” _why bother..._

He considers her for a second. “You’re mortal. You were taken by force into Faerie. You were hated by many and suffered consequences for it. You were never going to belong there, you know?”

“And I belong _here_?” She sneers, teeth bared. “You took it upon yourself to make sure I was returned back here. Property of the mortal world. I belong here?”

He wants to tell her he’s sorry for medaling with her life like that.

Worse.

His betrayal was much worse. In that night where they wed, she showed him trust. Her trust. A game where she doesn’t have to play alone with no companions in her side. She’d have an army, advisors, servants, someone, _him_. He wonders now if she knows she still has him.

Worse. He did her so much worse.

So, he answers truthfully. “No.”

“I don’t belong here?” She sounds a little surprise, as if she expected him to say yes without a doubt. 

He thinks about it more trying to think of a better way to say things. A better way to let her know what he realized and desperately wished for her to accept. 

“You don’t belong anywhere.”

Hurt came before anger and she looks off to the side. A pause. Then, “you said they would love me.”

Worse. His betrayal was so much worse because that night, she showed her what she often lacked from...everyone. Love. 

“I did,” he says. “I believe they would. But they would hate you more than they ever did, first.”

“Does it matter? If I am unloved by everyone and find home in nowhere? Queen of nothing?”

“That is not true.”

“What is the truth? How do I become loved by being hated and queen by being an outcast? You can’t lie but you can twist the truth all you like. How do all of your words make sense?”

“You’re mortal.” He says, sadness hinting his voice that both of them caught. Jude glares at him and he continues, “ Jude, you are one of the most feared beings in Faerie. In any other case, you would already be loved because of it. But you’re mortality represents weakness and so they—we—use it as such. So instead of being loved by fear, you are hated for it. You will be hated before they can accept you. But they will love you nonetheless.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I’m one of them.”

Love. He does, doesn’t he? Love her? Yes.  
Yes.  
Yes.

“Yet you still say I don’t belong to anywhere.”

“You don’t belong to any place,” he says and remembers how she ordered their food in the diner, how she looks so strikingly apart from the world. “I thought that giving you back to the mortals, you will find a place worthy of you. A place you’ll be accepted and not alone. I wanted you to have those because I couldn’t be them for you.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“You..you seem raised compared to everything else. Glowing. A queen. A god. Not only here but also in Faerie. You always stood out, Jude. Here, even more so. You’re like a sore thumb.”

“Gee,” she says without humor. “Thanks.”

He smirks at the utter obliviousness of the smartest girl he knows. “Jude, you don’t belong anywhere but you have the power to make any place belong to you.” He reaches out then because he doesn’t want to stop himself anymore. He touches her hand where the ruby ring sits. He whispers and hopes the truth rings clear. “You can make anyone belong to you.”

She watches him with a too steady gaze for glassy eyes. “How could you possibly think that? After all that’s happened, how could you possibly believe that?”

Worse. His betrayal was so much worse. He, along with the rest of the world, made her believe that she couldn’t possibly be anything to anyone. 

No matter how many things he realizes about him, her, then, there is always more to know. And this time, he realizes that she was much more alone in the times she was his seneschal that he thought. He remembers her sisters and Locke’d betrayal, and yet she kept fighting. The Ghost’s betrayal and yet she came back to help. Madoc’s. His. So many people have brought her down and he realizes that she only had herself to trust and talk to all those hard times. 

Until his offer to marry. 

Yes. His betrayal was so much worse. 

He does not condone murder but as of the moment, he has no problem of ending his own life just to compensate for all the pain the girl in front of him felt. 

It is her move. And he realizes how much he deserves whatever she has in store for him. He welcomes it.

But now. Now he has to tell her. His truth. Of her. He has to tell her, so he does and damn all other things because this is the least he could do.

“Because you are Jude Duarte. High Queen of Elfhame, Ruler of Faeries. My villain. My god. My queen. I will follow you until the last brick falls and the last head bows low in front of your feet. My darling Jude, you will bring the world down to its knees.”


End file.
